


Wicked Spirits

by YourLocalPriestess



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Flirting, a piece of the never ending slow burn I would some day write, turian halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 14:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16477478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourLocalPriestess/pseuds/YourLocalPriestess
Summary: Meg Shepard is still on Palaven for her N4 training when Spirit's Night rolls around. She's fully prepared to take the planet wide holiday to sleep, but her mentor has other plans.





	Wicked Spirits

**Author's Note:**

> Saren mentors her on Palaven becauseeeee I want that to be the thing haha.

Meg tied her jacket around her waist as she exited her apartment into the warmth that always permeated Palaven’s air. With a quick deep breath, she began making her way toward _The Fortitude_ and fired up her tool as she went. There were two messages from Garrus, one from her mom. Garrus merely wished her a Happy Spirits Day, fully discouraging her engaging in any drunken shenanigans like they had when they were younger. The message, to its credit, made me grin. She shot back a reply, reminding him who the source of the incident had been in the first place, and didn’t bother opening her mother’s.

As she pushed open the door to _The Fortitude_ , she smirked and observed the bar’s attendees. It was still late afternoon, but already the bar’s crowd was a mix of masked people in decadent outfits and average Joe Schmoes just getting off work. It was surreal, to see them all intermixed, being so normal for a moment just before all the activities that the night would hold later, and rejoicing in the fact that she would happily be sleeping through all of it.

After a drink, of course.

“Arus! My love! How are you?”

The turian behind the bar rolled his eyes, the only sign he’d heard her as he did not falter in mixing a drink for another patron. Thirty seconds and a few more flourishing shakes, he delivered the drink to the patron and then came her way. “Meg. You were here earlier.”

She beamed. “I was. And I’m back, aren’t you thrilled?”

One of his mandibles twitched, revealing his amusement, despite his otherwise irritated disposition. “So long as I keep getting your money, I’m thrilled to death.”

“Always, darling.” She slid her credit chit his way. “Just the usual, though. I’m headed home before it gets out of hand out here.”

He made his way toward the cooler which housed the levo ingredients for her drink, and threw over his shoulder, “I took you for a festive sort.”

“I usually am! Just not feeling particularly up to it tonight.”

He hummed his assent and slid her drink over, then carried on with his work. Meg loved how stiff he was. Most turians had a bit of stiffness in their bones, but Arus held a sort of honesty in his distaste for everyone, humans and turians alike, and _that_ she could appreciate.

Plus, he was the only one on the planet who could mix a decent tequila sunrise.

Just as she was savoring her second sip, her tool pinged with a new message. This one from Saren. She hung her head low with a sigh, and then straightened as she downed the last of her drink. She typed a reply into her tool, made sure to tip Arus, and saluted him as she slipped back out into the street.

In the mere few minutes it had been, it was already more crowded than usual, with booths and games popping up along the street edges and people in more and more strange garbs wandering around. She paused at a seller and picked up an ratef for her walk, one of the rare palavean fruits she could eat. As she weaved through the growing crowd, she couldn’t help but smile as she remembered the last time she had celebrated Spirit’s Night on Palaven. It was the first night she and Garrus…

Meg shook her head as she rounded the corner to a less busy street. There was no time for nostalgia now. There was work to do. Apparently.

She opened the door with a bit more gusto than necessary, causing it to smack against the wall as she crossed the threshold. She tossed her fruit into the bin near the door and scanned the somewhat empty warehouse for the figure she knew so well. The room was an organized chaos of high tech monitoring equipment in one corner, a shooting range against one wall, a gym against another wall, and another wall leading to an office. An entire building, molded to her mentor’s preferences.

“You know,” she called out when she spotted him across the expanse at a table, cleaning off his carnifex, “I might have had plans. Why exactly did I need to come in immediately?”

“You didn’t have plans.” Saren didn’t even look over his shoulder as he responded, only slid the last pieces of the gun together and examined it.

Meg reached the table and rested her hip against it, smirking up at him and cocking her head. “How would you know? Just because _you’re_ stiff as a brick doesn’t mean I am.”

Now, he glanced at her. “You weren’t going out.” He shoved the gun into her hand and nodded to the range. “You would miss this.”

“I was here yesterday.” She cocked her eyebrow and pushed herself off the table, into his personal space. “Who’s to say I would miss any of this when the night has so much to offer me?”

“ _Brat_ ,” he grumbled, low enough to make her stomach go warm and twisted. But he didn’t touch her. He stepped back and indicated the range. “Get to work Shepard. I have reports to file.”

Meg bit her lip for a moment and clicked her tongue once, feeling as if the wind had been sucked from her. “Fine.” She sauntered past him and dipped her head with a wicked grin as she did. “Anything for you,” she mused, her voice sickly sweet as she aimed at the target and took fire.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you so much for reading! You are great and wonderful and I love you <3 Happy Halloween!
> 
> Any comments/kudos/what-have-yous are greatly appreciated! ^_^


End file.
